


Sweet Home Savannah, Georgia

by Bluespartan114



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Nellis, Nick/Ellis - Freeform, Romance, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluespartan114/pseuds/Bluespartan114
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While attempting to get to the evac center at the hotel, Ellis's boyfriend, Keith, is Smokered to death. Grimly Ellis pushes on, only to meet three other survivors trying to do the same as him: survive. When that plan fails, they decide to stick together to see if they can't make it out of Savannah. </p><p>Ellis talks alot about Keith; he can't help it. They were lovers, best friends. When the others find out that they were more than just 'buddies,' Nick finds himself more curious about it than anything: after all, he'd had his fair share of men in his life and the optimistic mechanic is rather intriguing. But first, he's going to have to convince Ellis to leave Keith's memory behind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Home Savannah, Georgia

            “’S too quiet, Ellis.”

            The young man known as Ellis paused and adjusted his cap to better shield against the harsh gaze of the sun. Keith was right: up until now the streets were practically clogged with flu victims, rabid people, or whatever. Now it was deserted, eerily silent; the bodies of infected and normal people lying side-by-side in a mutual exchange of fluids and internal organs. Smoke billowed through open windows of abandoned houses and the occasional fluttering tabloid skittered across the road seeking its own refuge. Other than that not a creature was stirring, not even a rabid flu-infected mouse.

            “Jus’ keep yer eyes peeled,” Ellis whispered back, hoisting his pump-action shotgun a little higher. “Evac station’s not far.”

            “ _If_ they’re still there,” Keith pointed out, rounding an alley with the nose of his pistol taking point. Empty. The tall blonde exhaled and continued on down the street.

            “Yanno we’d already _be there_ if you’d remembered to solder the frame to the body proper. I was even tryin’ to come up with a name fer her, but honestly I got stuck somewhere between ‘People Mower’ and callin’ her ‘Dead Wreckoning.’ A’course she ain’t as well equipped as the  _real_ Dead _Reckoning_ , but I figured it was an honorary title anyway.”

            “ _Me_? I thought you was gonna do it!”

            Ellis rolled his eyes, raised his gun and shot the face off a curious infected trying to lumber too close. “And that, my dear, is clearly what got us into this mess: you thinkin’.”

            “Oh, like you woulda remembered that tiny little piece by the front tires?”

            “ _Duh_. S’why Dave made _me_ head mechanic.”

            Keith turned up a little crooked smile and set his jaw in such a way that made Ellis’s heart melt, his head spin, and the blonde Savannahite _knew_ it, too. Some days it was the best—and easiest—way to get the younger man to stop talking.

            “On your right.” Keith had to do a double-take, but he saw the infected that the other man was pointing out. He drew his pistol and fired, the shot going wide. “Hah! You couldn’t hit tha broad side’a yer barn if yer momma was standin’ on it.” Aiming a little more carefully this time, Keith managed a shot that damn near blew off the entire left side of the thing’s face.

            “You’re right. _Your_ momma must’a been standin’ on that one.”

            “Hey! Not cool, man.”

            “S’only fair, El.”        

            They continued on in amiable silence for a little while; they were getting closer to the hotel CEDA designated for evacuations and their adversaries were growing less and less frequent. Nervousness was beginning to rise in the bellies of the two young men because—in their experience—that meant shit was about to go down. And, as if right on cue, Ellis stopped moving, peering around the streets to see if the noise would reoccur. There it was again! “Hear that?” he whispered, though he really didn’t think he had a reason to whisper: they were the only two out and about, which was a little creepy if he stopped to think about it, but—

            Drawing his brows together, Keith strained his ears. Shit, he couldn’t even hear the birds. What was—oh. In one of the buildings up ahead there was a loud, husky, hacking cough radiating from the broken windows. “Think someone’s alive in there?”

            “Could be,” the young brunette frowned. “Wanna check it out?”

            Keith hesitated, a warning stirring up in his gut that said maybe it wasn’t the best plan. But then his overwhelming sense of adventure took over and he was all for the idea. After all, this _did_ appear to be an apocalypse-type situation; could be fun! “Maybe an extra set’a eyes couldn’t hurt,” he rationalized to hide his excitement, though Ellis saw right through it.

            Nodding, Ellis moved into a crouch to the building, his head on a swivel the entire time to watch for an unexpected ambush. He stayed just under the window, pausing only when he reached the splintered door. Keith moved in behind him. The coughing was _definitely_ coming from inside. Motioning Keith with one hand, Ellis held his gun at the ready. He would be right behind.

            Grimacing that he had to go in first (‘course that was only to tease Ellis—he was actually imagining himself as one of those action movie heroes sneaking up to rescue some damsel in distress or another), Keith took a breath and stepped into the doorway with his pistol pointed at the dark.

            What happened next was such a blur that Ellis would only remember it clearly in his nightmares.

            A long slimy tongue snaked its way out of the darkness and encompassed about ninety-five percent of Keith’s body in a vice. Just as quickly it yanked him inside the house and upwards so that his body was dangling over the banister of the upstairs landing. The tendril was tightening around his face and neck; any sound made by the helpless man was dying within the fleshy folds.

            “Keith? Keith!” Ellis shouted, charging over the threshold. He harnessed the urged to shoot blindly, worried the spread would catch the other man. Not like he had much of an opportunity anyway because his shouts drew the attention of the clustered infected in the house. They swarmed him, rotted faces and broken teeth gnawing at his head. Clawed fingers scrabbled for purchase on any part of his body they could get their hands on. Deep scratches started making their way up his bare arms and hands.

            Through a haze of red and slow-motion Ellis swung his elbow to fling them away. It worked, but only for a second. Undeterred they surged back against him, his feet losing their ground. Grunting he fired his gun, opening a breathing lane in front of him. His next shot was more calculated, taking down two to his right. It seemed like every infected that should have been on the streets were crammed in the house because for every two he shot, two more took its place, forcing Ellis farther out of the house. Through sweat and blood Ellis chanced a look at his partner. Keith’s body now hung limply in the wormy grasp.

            “K-Keith!” Ellis tried, though every fiber in his body told him it was already too late. “I’ll kill all you sons-a-bitches!” he raged, all thoughts of Keith’s safety gone and unloaded his shotgun until the somber click told him he was empty. So he took to swinging the butt of the gun in a wide arc to leave him room to flee.

            He tore down the streets like a man possessed, tears and other disgusting unmentionables blurring his vision. Bile caked the back of his throat and his lungs burned, but he refused to stop. It was only when he realized he’d lost his horde of a tail did he slow down. Ellis paused long enough to empty the contents of his stomach on a street corner. Sides heaving, Ellis wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned his head in the general direction of whence he came. “Keith…I-I’m so s-sorry. I—”

            A small burst of gunfire broke off what probably would have been a longer speech than he probably could afford at the moment.

            His ears perked up and the distraction provided him with ample opportunity to reassess his surroundings—he hadn’t exactly been paying attention when he’d took off running. A glimmer of hope swelled in his chest: CEDA’s evac was just around the corner. Probably where the gunfire was coming from. “Goodbye, Keith…” he whispered with a finality that sounded foreign to his own ears.

            Pulling a few spare shells from his coveralls pocket, Ellis reloaded and trotted down the street, trying to clear up his sniffles and wiping his face; it wouldn’t do any good to show up looking like a whimpering sissy. He picked off a few straggling infected pawing at the huge barbed wire fence surrounding the hotel currently acting as an evacuation center.

            The main gate was ajar, opening into a suspiciously empty parking lot. A lone whirly-bird was perched on the roof; that tiny glimmer of hope flared up to give him enough focus to press on—well, what was left of hope, at least. A horrific chorus of screams drew his attention to a…flock of those things catapulting around the corner towards the gunfire. A few garbled—but thankfully human—shouts drifted over the sounds of the infected. Hell, no sense in wasting time saving their asses.

            Rounding the corner quietly to get a better fix on the survivors’ position (mostly because he didn’t want to shoot them in the process), Ellis braced the gun in the crook of his shoulder and unleashed all of his pent-up emotion silently, as quickly as possible, making every shot count until he registered empty again, at which point the other survivors finished the horde off.

            “Hey!” called out the one female of the group when the chaos died down to a manageable level. “Hey, you immune?” She waved a bangled arm in the air to get Ellis’s attention.

            “Ro’, we don’t have time for this. That chopper’s getting ready to leave,” hissed the man in the crisp, brain-stained suit.

            “Hush, boy. We’ll be a’ight. C’mon, son, evacs up there. You immune, or what?” finished the big, bald guy, his dark eyes fixed solidly on the young brunette with the shotgun.

            Adjusting his cap, Ellis shouldered his weapon and approached cautiously. “I ain’t got the flu, if that’s whacha mean.” He glanced nervously between the three, settling on the sub-machine gun being pointed at him by the well-dressed man. “Me’n my buddy Keith were…we were tryin’ to get to the evac…”

            “Oh, yeah? Where’s your ‘buddy’ now?” the man behind the gun pressed.

            Ellis could only look at the pavement, his hat hiding the fresh tears brewing behind his soft green eyes.

            “Honey, I’m so sorry,” Ro’ said, voice sincere. “Come with us. Let’s get outta here.” She turned and started a light jog towards the front doors, burst wide open and hanging off the hinges.

            The two other men motioned for him to go first. Ellis nodded and obliged, understanding their mistrust.

            Inside was a catastrophe of broken furniture, corpses, blood, limbs, and viscera—everything an evacuation should _not_ be.

            “Aw, gross!” the smaller man in the suit groaned, pulling his expensive-looking shoe from a pile of mire and muck. “Ro’, you sure this is just a flu?”

            “That’s what CEDA’s been tellin’ everyone. The ‘Green Flu.’”

            “Yanno what these look like to me? Zombies.”

            “Sh!” the man in the suit chastised Ellis. “We’re not usin’ that word.”

            Ellis blinked uncomprehendingly and then promptly buckshotted an infected sneaking up from the side. “Which word ya talkin’ ‘bout? I used a bunch.”

            “The ‘Z’ word, duh!”

            “We can debate semantics later, son,” the big burly man said as he swung an axe into the neck of another infected with more force than probably necessary.

            They seemed to silently agree and even Ellis—who normally wasn’t able to hold his tongue—kept his mouth shut and focused on assisting his new companions through the throngs of stumbling, staggering, shambling beasts. Together they shot, chopped, mauled and just generally destroyed wave after wave up close; the suit and Ellis picking off a few stragglers here and there. And that was just in the lobby.

            “Nice shot, Ace,” the man in the white suit huffed, throwing an appreciatory glance Ellis’s way when he blew the head off an infected that was getting ready to tear through his neck.

            “Thanks! Me’n my buddy Keith, we usedta…” The big burly man was getting ready to send him a ‘quiet down’ look, but Ellis trailed off without his help. Talking about Keith came so naturally to him that he didn’t realize how tight his heart was going to squeeze when he thought about him. _Too soon, man_. Ellis sighed and clenched his teeth, forcing his thoughts elsewhere—anywhere—so he didn’t cry. Later. Later he would grieve properly.

            Elevators in the lobby appeared broken when the foursome tried to call for them: they would have to settle for the stairs.

            “What’s that noise?” Ro’ asked, paused with one foot poised on the first step of a long climb. Few—if any—infected lurked here and without their moans reverberating off the cold stone walls, the distinct sound of a helicopter rotor powering up was discernable.

            The bald guy’s eyes went wide as he sucked in a breath. “Shit, they must think they have all the survivors! C’mon!” He damn near shoved Ro’ up the stairs, following close behind, taking the steps two…sometimes three at a time.

            The sound of the chopper grew louder and more physical the higher they went, like it was trying to shake the entire building down. The big man who, at first tackled the stairs with purpose, slowed and finally stopped, heaving for breath over one of the railings. “Who the hell…puts an evac station…up thirty flights of goddamn stairs…?”

            “Come on, Coach…maybe the helicopter…maybe it’s made of chocolate…” the man in the white suit chuckled breathlessly as he came round. They were supposed to be words of encouragement, but that didn’t stop the big man—Coach—from giving him a dirty look as he passed by.

            “Hurry!” Ro’ shouted, cresting the final landing and bursting through the roof access door with everything she had. She was greeted with quite possibly the more disheartening and demoralizing sight she never wanted to think about: four choppers, already lifted off, heading _away_ from them. “This isn’t happening…” she muttered again and again, hoping her mantra would bring them back.

            Coach drew up beside her, throwing his hands in the air, far beyond the stage of disbelief. “Thought they were supposed to be savin’ our asses?”

            “Looks like there’s been a changa plans,” the man in the white suit said, bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

            “Hey, where is everybody?” Ellis called, wandering around the roof, seeing if anyone else was hiding or waiting to aid more survivors. “Helloooo? Anyone here?”

            The man in the suit stared harshly at the retreating machines. “Okay, we all had a turn yelling at the helicopter. Good. Moving on: I think the building’s on fire.” He turned and pointed to the large plume of smoke billowing out from one of the air vents behind them.

            “What the hell we s’posed to do now?” Coach shouted.

            “That chopper looks like it’s headin’ over to the evac station at the mall. We could follow it,” Ellis suggested, watching the trajectory of the giant metal birds.

            “And just how are we supposed to get there with all those…things down there? In the _dark_.” Suit demanded, watching the dimming orange skyline.

            Ro’ suddenly gasped and snapped her fingers, cocoa eyes alight with the faintest glimmer. “That’s it!” When she received three pairs of incredulous stares for her troubles she shook her head. “CEDA’s got safe rooms set up all over the city for when they’re moving refugees through quarantine checkpoints. I think....” she struggled to remember where the nearest one was, “…I think there’s one not far from here!”

            “I ain’t gonna argue. Name’s Coach, by the way,” he said with a nod in Ellis’s direction.

            “My name’s Ellis, some people call me El. But I really prefer Ellis ‘cause El kinda sounds like a girl’s name. But if you prefer to call me El…I guess you can.”

            “Rochelle.”

            “Name’s Nick, but don’t bother learnin’ it ‘cause I ain’t stickin’ around long. Now if we’re gonna try for this safe room, we’d better gear up. Looks like they left some shit here.”

           

**Author's Note:**

> Please, as always, feedback is much appreciated--whether it be criticism or praise. After all: I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong with it.


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